


your pretty sister

by littletangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Lemon Cakes, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:26:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4299507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletangerine/pseuds/littletangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor Clegane, the fearsome Hound, is dying due to his wounds and infection. His meal ticket turned traveling companion, Arya Stark, who is still filled with vengeance, denies him a mercy kill and turns to leave - but before she does, his mentioning of her 'pretty sister' makes her stop dead in her tracks. Long one-shot. Lots of dialogue; M for language and some lemony speak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your pretty sister

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy reading my first fanfic of the ASOIAF world; I decided, of course, to use my personal favorite ship, Sandor and Sansa, as the platform. While working on a longer fanfic, obviously SanSan related, I decided to test the waters by writing a long one-shot fic. Hopefully I did this ship some justice. Reviews would be great, and encouraging, to keep continuing with my other work!
> 
> These characters belong to the great and genius George RR Martin; this is purely scribble from a desperately obsessed fan and woman with a weak spot for big guys in need of therapy because of PTSD.

**Your pretty sister**

  
''That pretty, pretty sister of yours, the little bird that sang for me with her sweet voice, she sang for her little life...''

  
The great bloodied and wounded dog groaned, bringing his calloused fingers to the bone sticking up from his broken flesh, twitching and cursing under his breath when he tried to move slightly. Arya turned, sending a wave of fury and rage as she stared back at the wounded dog, her expression solid, as cold as steel. Slowly, she stepped a few inches closer, her brows furrowed in a twist of confusion and anger.

  
''What did you say?'' She asked, her voice trailing off into a dangerous whisper. Her shaking skinny fingers traveled slowly to the top of her small swords hilt. Sandor flashed a vicious look at the young girl, his eyes glistening with what looked like some kind of moisture - in a blink, the moisture bulked, spilling from his eyes, but he distracted the obvious sight by laughing, a disdainful, bitter laugh. Arya moved with a quickness, swiftly drawing her skinny sword, putting the sharp, pointy end to his neck, the side that wasn't riddled with burned flesh. The Hound, the bloodied imposing figure of a man didn't even slightly flinch when she put the sharp end to his neck. Knowing she was fully able of shoving her sword Needle through his neck and out the other end, he still laid on the ground firm, his gleaming grey eyes piercing into her own grey eyes. She was well aware that he had reached his end - the thing he feared least of all was death, at this point he welcomed it with open arms. Having a sword pressed to his skin was nothing compared to the pain he had endured in his lifetime, Arya knew this - the melted, crater-filled bloody half of his furious face was proof enough without him uttering a word of how it came to be. She pressed the pointy tip harder against his skin, pricking it enough to draw blood - he didn't even flinch as the thick, crimson liquid began to trickle out from his muddy neck.

  
''Speak, you big filthy dog!'' She snapped, ''What do you mean my sister sang for her life? If you hurt her-''

  
''I never hurt her, not the little bird, never.'' He cut her off before she could finish her threat, clenching his teeth. She crouched before him, Needle created a safe distance between them. Even laying there with a damned bone sticking from his bloody flesh, barely able to turn his head from left to right, she was still being extra cautious - even in this state, the fierce Hound was still capable of wringing her neck and choking the life out of her. He begged for a mercy kill, something she denied him, fully wanting him to suffer - but the mentioning of Sansa, her sweet, fragile and naive older sister, made her stop dead in her tracks.

  
''What did you do to my sister?'' Arya asked firmly, a disgusted expression on her face.

  
''Do you think so lowly of me?'' He rasped, coughing, his throat dry and in need of water, ''Those knights she thought so highly of, the ones she stared at starry-eyed, were the same knights who beat her bloody, and had the stones to call themselves _Sers_ ,'' He spat a bloody ball from his mouth to his right, obviously disgusted by the thought of the cruel men of the Kingsgaurd who flooded the Red Keep, disguised as noble knights, ''She never forgets her courtesies, that pretty little bird, even after being beaten senseless, she never stopped calling them _ser_ or _my lord_. With her bloody and bruised lips, she still managed to smile and bow her head.'' 

  
Arya's jaw clenched, her hand that held the hilt of Needle began to tremble, feeling the sensations of sadness and rage boil over within her as she thought of the abuse Sansa endured at the hands of the these monsters disguised in shining armour. Sandor chuckled weakly, looking directly into Arya's moistening eyes, filling with tears that she desperately tried to cover - never wanting to show that she was indeed just a young girl, capable of fragility and displaying emotions.

  
''I know, you little she-wolf...'' He trailed off into a low growl, fully aware of her emotions spilling over even if she tried her damned hardest to cover them up. The wounded dog groaned in pain as he tried shifting his broken and bloodied leg, to no avail, ''I know, thinking of her makes me feel the same. These buggering memories and thoughts keep plaguing my mind, as if I wasn't haunted enough before. She ruined me, she bloody ruined me,'' He coughed again, this time his spittle was stained with blood, ''I stood there and watched the little bird as she was beaten, but she never broke. They tried so hard to break her wings, but she still stood firm. Fucking look at her now - she shit on all their heads and flew away...'' His eyes finally fell from hers and dropped down to his dirty, bloody hands and broken flesh with the protruding white bone; Arya could have sworn she saw a shiver run through his entire firm, imposing figure.

  
''During the Blackwater, while that entire damned place was going up in those wild green flames, the only thing that went through my head was getting as far away as possible. I turned into a fucking child, scared out of his wits. I turned and ran away to the only place I felt any sense of comfort and safety, to the little bird's chamber...''

  
He trailed off, closing his eyes and bringing his head back, resting it on the hard trunk of the tree. As he dived deeper into the dark corners of his mind, Arya noticed his mouth twisting into a wicked smirk, his burned side crooked and menacing looking as he twitched with what looked like delight. Arya shook, _Seven Hells_ , she cursed as she thought, _what did this filthy dog do to her?_ He snapped his head back down and met her wide-eyed stare.

  
''I came to her chamber drunk, filthy, covered in blood...she trembled when she saw me, but she always did. I knew she couldn't stand the sight of me, so I made her look at me. She was always a courteous little bird, not once did she curse me or ask me to leave her be, with her wide eyes, those bloody Tully blue eyes, she looked at me and her lip quivered in fear and disgust, looking up at me, at this burned and bloodied old dog.''

  
Arya felt a gush of disgust within her, but she swallowed her lips and held the hilt firmly as he continued,

  
''I begged her, I fucking begged her to come with me, promised her I would bring her home. I told her no one would ever dare hurt her, not while under my protection. I was willing to kill any bloody fool who dared lay a hand on m-,'' He quickly halted himself before finishing, swallowing a dry lump in his throat, clearing it as much as he could, ''Lay a hand on _the_ little bird. But she didn't want my help, she was still so wrapped up in her fantasies of the good and kind and just, of knights and fair maidens. I was so angry, angry that even after everything she endured, her mind was still so polluted with these fucking fantasies and she hadn't learned a bloody thing. So I pulled out my dagger,''

  
As soon as Arya heard the word _dagger_ , without a thought she grasped the hilt so tightly that she felt the bones in her knuckles dig under her skin. The Hound simply shook his head, a slight chuckle escaping from under his breath,

  
''I pinned her to the bed and pressed the dagger to her neck, asking for that song she promised me all those moons ago,''

  
''You filth...you dirty, ugly, old filthy dog, you put a dagger to my sisters neck?'' Arya pressed the pointed end of Needle harder against his neck, drawing more blood.

  
''I didn't hurt her, I never hurt the little bird...she was the only one, the only fucking one who didn't make me feel rage and monstrous surges for death, for killing.''

  
''She's not a _little bird_ , she is a Stark! She is _a wolf!_ '' Arya gritted her teeth as she snapped at him and his ridiculous mockery of her sister, something his filthy mouth muttered as some sort of term of endearment. The only response he gave after her outburst was a great big chuckle,

  
''Aye, she is a wolf...I have the bite marks to prove it.'' His mouth curled into a crooked, sinful smirk. Arya turned her head, brows half furrowed in confusion.

  
''Speak up, dog, I can barely hear the words pouring out from your filthy mouth, what bite marks are you bloody talking about?''

  
''Wouldn't you like to know, you fucking she-wolf? The little bird is a wolf indeed, when you catch her at the right moment.'' His smile turned even wider, the holes on the burned side of his face twisting and moving repulsively. There were no restraints on his words now, triggering the deepest parts of his memories, sinful tales pouring out from his mouth,

  
''Your pretty sister sang for her little life, feeling the cold, hard steel press on her neck and my equally hard cock against her thigh,''

  
Arya flinched at his harsh words, feeling as if she would begin to heave in pure disgust at the thought of him putting hands on her sister in such a way. Even with a sword harshly pointed at his neck, he continued bitterly,

  
''But she didn't flinch nor cry, carrying on with her courteous ways, she let my filthy, bloody hands explore her small body. I kept telling myself I needed to stop, stop before she had enough of this ugly dog and decided to curse me away with spite,'' He cleared his dry throat again, ''But she never did, not even once. She let my hands run over her perfect little tits, I couldn't help but grab them and squeeze a bit. Seven buggering Hells, just thinking about those perfectly round little tits makes my cock stir in my breeches, even with this damned bone sticking out from my leg!''

His chuckle soon fell short when a sharp groan escaped from his mouth, clearly in pain the more vocal he was telling his tale, much to Arya's obvious repugnance.

  
''Aye, 'ya little she-wolf, your precious sister let me do as I pleased. I was everything she never wanted, everything she was repulsed by, and yet she let my monstrous hands roam around her fragile waist and tug on that bloody dress that took forever to pull off. I took the dagger from her neck down to her dress and ripped the damned thing to shreds, needing to get to those beautiful, porcelain thighs somehow,''

  
Without warning, Arya stood up and struck him right across the burned side of his face forcefully with the back of her waterskin, quickly having him face Needle again, this time right in between his eyes. Sandor didn't make a sound, he only turned his head back slowly, looking up at her grey eyes aflame with rage, a wicked smile still upon his bloodied face as he continued without shame,

  
''I couldn't control myself, she was just so damned beautiful, her flaming hair and little frame made me weak at the knees, I felt like some bloody green boy who didn't know which hole to put my throbbing cock in. I expected her to cry, to scream to those old Gods of yours, crying out why they had forsaken her so, crying what she had done in her short life to deserve her being taken by an ugly old dog like me,'' He clenched his fist and squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering, he continued, ''But she didn't cry, not even once, at least not in the way I expected her to. I ran my hands along her soft thighs and beyond, making my way to her precious untouched flower, and Hells, she shook, but not with fear.''

  
''You're a _liar!_ '' Arya cried, throwing Needle aside in a sudden burst of rage and confusion, beating the already wounded Hound over the head with her waterskin, but he didn't even try to block her for a moment, he still lay against the tree trunk as he did the entire time, taking her ferocious beating, ''You lie! You're a filthy, ugly old dog! My sister would never let someone like _you_ touch her in such a way, she isn't some filthy tavern wench!'' She spat, ''Even a desperate and hungry whore wouldn't let you touch her no matter how much coin you offer, you're _repulsive_!''

  
He erupted into laughter, little did Arya know he was laughing at himself,

  
''You'd be surprised,'' That was his response, his laughter rolling off into a soft chuckle, closing his eyes once more to dive even deeper into his memories, ''I remember the exact moment she yelped in surprise, so unknowing of the sensations and what I was going to do next,'' He opened his eyes and showed Arya his glistening grey eyes, she noticed they appeared weaker, ''Now the only thing that would make me a fucking liar is if I said seeing her respond in that way, wriggling and gasping for breath underneath me didn't excite me... _that_ would make me a liar. But I buggering ain't, believe you me, you damned she-wolf. A Hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he'll look you straight in the face.'' Which is exactly what he did, he looked dead into her eyes as Arya began to tremble the more he spoke,

  
''I don't think I could say it enough, how bloody beautiful she is, I sound like a blubbering fool, but Seven Hells, she is so damned beautiful. Seeing her twitch and grab onto my arms, nails digging into my skin while I dove deeper into her ocean, thinking about it right now, even with the life escaping from me with each breath, it could send me over the edge. That sister of yours, _my_ little bird, she's the one who really killed me. She soothed the rage within me, the monster has died,'' He looked over at Arya with an expression she hadn't ever seen on him, a look of sorrow as his face softened the more he spoke, ''And don't go on thinking it was just because I took her sweet little cunt,'' Arya twitched at his filthy words, ''She was the only one who made me feel like the world wasn't as twisted and hateful as I had always thought it to be. She had me believing in things I knew weren't true or real, found my head was beginning to clutter with fantasies, those of true knights and fair maidens, just like the little girl I had found wandering through the empty halls of the Red Keep, dreaming and wishing...''

  
His expression soon turned sour when an unpleasant memory crept up,

  
''If I had known then what I know now, known of their plans to marry her off to that torterous, wife-beating Imp, I would have taken my little bird the way I did, but I would have been a bit more gentle with her, would have petted her sweet little head while she whispered my name, _my_ name. She did that, you know? While she moaned, so bloody sweetly, she bit into my shoulder and called out, _Sandor_. She was the first person to call out my name, Sandor, not Hound or Dog, but my real name. It sounded so strange to me, I forgot that I even had a name, forgot that this fucking _Sandor_ she called out for was _me_!''

  
''You are absolutely deranged...'' Arya trailed off into a whisper, not sure what to feel. On one hand she was furious, but on another, she couldn't help but feel compassionate to his words. His words are genuine, she admitted to herself, as hard as it was for her to admit it.

  
''And after all of that, after having my sweet little bird, I would have ripped her fucking heart out from her chest,''

  
Arya snapped, her eyes widening - but even under her intense, hateful glare, he didn't stop,

  
''Because there would be no way I would let her endure anymore of that. Going on knowing that fucking _Imp_ would share a bed with her, no way in the deepest depths of the Seven Hells would I have let that happen.''

  
He coughed hoarsely, weakly trying to clear his throat, a task obviously becoming harder,

  
''She-wolf, this thirst will kill me before these damned wounds do,'' He called out to Arya, she hesitantly stepped closer to him, ''Come closer, child, this dog doesn't have a bite anymore,''

  
She closed the distance between them, crouching before him and pressing the tip of the waterskin to his lips, a scowl look on his face after taking a few pulls. Arya knew he wished it were wine rather than water, but it would have to do. As each minute passed, he deteriorated.

  
''If you ever see your pretty sister again, tell her that she had a loyal dog, a dog that would have killed for her, would have died for her,'' His mouth twitched as he paused for a moment, looking down at his wounded leg and bloodied arms, ''Instead I'm going to die for her bloody sister now. Seven buggering Hells, nothing went right for me.''

Arya blinked as he flashed a genuine smile. He weakly brought his bloody and bruised hand over to the slit on the side of his dagger's belt, Arya scanning his movements cautiously. His hand emerged, shaking, with a small gold pin of a hound, one that looked much like the one from the sigil of House Clegane.

''Give this to her, if you ever do see her again...which I know you won't, a wild she-wolf like yourself will be killed the moment you walk away from my corpse, which is why I'm not hesitating asking this of you,'' He groaned as his body shook viciously, causing his arm to fall and limp, not having the energy to move it anymore,

  
''Tell her she had a loyal dog, but that dog is long gone. Sandor was waiting, wishing that he could put his hand up to her face and steal another song from her trembling lips,''

  
Arya took the gold hound from his tremendous hand and clutched onto it,

  
''I'll tell her, you filthy dog.''

  
His only response was a soft chuckle, genuine and tender. With a low groan, he tenderly shut his eyes,

  
''I stole a song from her lips and left her my bloody white cloak, stained with my blood, her blood. She gave me my last, no...my only sweet memory.''


End file.
